Rise of Misfortune
by HopeXUnintended
Summary: This is a sequel to Inheritance and takes place a few years after the fall of Galbatorix. This story centers around a boy named Rauthr and how a simple decision affected his life in extraordinary ways.
1. Chapter 1

I own none of Christopher Paolini's characters or his books. I merely admire The Inheritance Cycle and wish to write my own sequel to it. Personally, I believe the book ended with too many "loose ends" and left room for so much more. I hope you enjoy my fanfiction, Rise of Misfortune. This story is set after Paolini's last book, Inheritance. I love feeback and I would love to receive some. :)

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

A small-cloaked figure was hidden behind musty bales of hay, protected by the fearsome elements that raged outside of the barn. His cloak was damp, but his honey-colored skin remained dry and warm under the fabric. He let out a content sigh, his breath making puffs of smoke in front of his young-looking face. The boy wasn't very old but patches of stubble were beginning to appear on his chin and on the sides of his face. His hair was shaggy, stopping a little after his ears, and was the color of ripe wheat. Under his cloak he wore simple woven clothes, worn leather boots, and gloves riddled with holes. The only valuables the boy had on him was a small pouch with a couple of coins he had obtained through odd jobs or less nobly, stealing, and a dagger he had fastened to his side.

His eyes fluttered beneath his lids as sleep fought to overtake him, and as one hand clung to his dagger possessively, he let it have its way.

As an orphan Rauthr was use to sleeping in such a way, only the strongest and cleverest survived on their own. His mother and father had died during the capture of Gil'ead after a large, red dragon known as Thorn shot fire into their home. The fire had burned his parents alive and left him with pink, knotted scars that ran up his legs and waist. The elves that had captured the city helped heal him to the best of their ability, but some scars still remained, too severe for magic to erase. They named him "Rauthr" due to the misfortune he had experienced and left him under the guardianship of an kind, old woman.

He lived with the woman for many years, doing chores around the house and helping to prepare meals. She taught him how to read and write, how to milk a cow, and how to fix the fence around the chicken coop so that foxes couldn't run off with their hens. The woman's days were counted, however, and in the weeks before her death her distant relatives swarmed like flies who fought over both her property and belongings. When she died Rauthr was only eleven. This left him to try to live on the streets of Gil'ead.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

"Sorvil!" The sound of a man growled, causing the symphonic sound of snow hitting wood to be broken in the midnight air. Rauthr's eyes snapped open at the sound of the irritated man and his grip tightened around the dagger. He remained silent. He was well hidden behind the large bales of hay and his cloak would further help him mold into the dark shadows. "I told you to be careful with that, it's worth more than your worthless life!" The man continued to shout with authoritative anger.

"It's so heavy!" A different man, quieter than the other, replied with a hiss. "Why are we carrying around this stupid rock anyways?"

"It's not just a rock, you idiot. Those pointy-eared freaks weren't guarding it for nothing." His voice turned almost lustful, full of excitement. "Who knows what we could get for it."

The other man gave a grunt in reply. He then grumbled to himself, almost too softly for Rauthr to hear. "It's just a rock. We must've grabbed the wrong thing…"

It wasn't long before silence returned once more to the barn. The thieves, Rauthr assumed, had stolen something from the elves. He had recently heard that the elves had been traveling outside of Du Weldenvarde but he hadn't seen any since they had stopped occupying Gil'ead. He wondered what had caused them to venture from their forests, everyone assumed that they would stay there after the war ended. Rauthr's fingers brushed against the dagger's blade, comforting him. He knew two men were still in the barn with him. If there were more he was not sure. What he did know was that the thieves had something potentially valuable. It could be worth the risk.

_"Is it worth dying over?"_ He thought to himself, he could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as adrenaline began to take over. The pouch of coins he kept tied around his neck was meager. It was turning colder each day and it wouldn't be long before everyone would be locked up within their cozy homes. Work would be difficult to find, as well as food, which was already raising in price each day. He closed his eyes with a silent prayer. The darkness enveloped him. Something urged him to go on.

Rauthr unsheathed his dagger silently and shifted over onto his elbows and knees. He would use the darkness to his advantage. His cloak would make him resemble a dark shadow, a trick on the eyes that would make him overlooked if one of the men happened to wake. If not he would be forced to use his dagger. The young boy had never killed a man before, and he didn't think he was ready to. As his eyes adjusted he crawled from behind the bales, his dagger secured between his teeth. He was relieved when he saw the men laid out on the ground fast asleep, covered by animal furs. A small lantern illuminated their faces. They were rugged and their faces were covered with harsh lines. The life of a thief wasn't a gentle one. The boy promised himself never to become like them and to make a better life for himself, even if it did require him to steal one last time.

His eyes reflected the flame from the lantern as he looked carefully around the two men. He didn't even really know what he was looking for, except that it was something that looked like a rock. Maybe it wasn't something of value, maybe the men had grabbed the wrong thing. He silently encouraged himself to find whatever it was so that he could be the judge of that. By one of the men, he assumed the louder and more angry one, was what looked like a leather bag. The bag was large so it had to be full of something. The man had his armed curled around it protectively. He mentally cursed. It would be risky to take it. As doubt filled his mind the same mysterious presence eased him, nudging him to continue.

He crawled over next to the man and took the dagger from his mouth and into his right hand, sitting up on his knees. This was the last wall separated him from what could be a better life, and he wasn't going to let it stop him. He reached for the man's arm with his free hand and gripped it carefully. He then slowly started to move it, smelling the alcohol on the man's breath as he did so. Just as he thought he was finally in the clear the man started to stir, causing Rauthr's heartbeat to leap from his chest and his breath to catch. The man's eyes opened, dark and ugly holes that grew wide with anger as he spotted the boy. He could and would kill him with one punch. The boy couldn't help but to quickly cover the man's mouth with one hand and to stab with the other, his innocence left like the light from the man's eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

I own none of Christopher Paolini's characters or his books. I merely admire The Inheritance Cycle and wish to write my own sequel to it. Personally, I believe the book ended with too many "loose ends" and left room for so much more. I hope you enjoy my fanfiction, Rise of Misfortune. This story is set after Paolini's last book, Inheritance. I love feeback and I would love to receive some. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Rauthr didn't know what to do. After shock subsided and reality set in he quickly grabbed the leather bag and fled as quietly as he had come. The blood was hot and sticky and went through the holes of his gloves and onto his hands, but he tried not to think about it as his feet echoed off the stone road. The sleet was still falling and it assaulted him like a million tiny blades on his face. His body soon grew numb and the sweat in his light hair and above his brow solidified into an icy crust. _"I'm going to freeze to death."_ He clutched the bag closer to his body but the bag gave off no warmth. He knew of an inn close by, but he would have to pay them. He would lose a few of his coins, but that was his only option.

The stone building looked inviting. Rauthr could see a soft glow of light in each of the inn's windows and smoke escaped out of a chimney at the top. He longed for warmth. He went up towards the door and looked up at a squeaky, waving sign. In intricate writing the sign read, "Alduin's Inn." He grasped the cold iron handle and opened up the wooden door, the heat escaping and leaving a large cloud in the cool air. "Come in, boy! You're letting all the warm air out!" A male voice boomed from inside. Rauthr looked down at his hands and cringed at the darkening blood that covered his gloves. Before the grief set in he threw the bag over his shoulder and quickly removed the gloves, stuffing them inside his cloak. Hiding his crime. "Make sure it is closed all the way too." The man continued with a scowl towards the boy. It was a look that a father would give a son rather than a customer.

Rauthr gave an apologetic look towards the inn keeper. "Sorry, sir." He then fumbled for the small coin purse around his neck with numb fingers. The knot that kept it closed was strong and hard to undo.

The man gave him a pitiful stare as he surveyed the boy's attire and finally waved his hand through the air. "Ah, don't worry about it boy! It's on the house. Just be good and quiet and you can have a room." He gave a scowl, a warning that he better listen to him and not cause a ruckus or else he'd come to regret it. The man, he guessed was Alduin, was a good man.

"Thank you so much sir. I won't forget your kindness." He smiled gratefully as the man handed over the key to him and pointed him in the direction of the room. Behind him heard the man mumble. _"Poor kid. He shouldn't be out there in the cold." _Rauthr couldn't help but feel like a wolf in sheep's clothing. He had just killed a man. He didn't deserve kindness. The bag weighed heavily on his back and as he made it to the room and closed the door. It was bittersweet to sit the bag down on the soft bed, he was both excited but also appalled at himself for killing the thief. Yet, the man was a thief after all. _Had he killed others? Was his death justifiable?_ He struggled with his conscience. He gave a groan and threw himself on the bed, his face staring up at the ceiling.

It was the first time he had been in a real bed in years. His body wanted to dissolve into its softness, he wanted to fall asleep and never wake up from the dream of warmth and comfort. He gave a sigh and turned to the bag next to him. It was leather and was decorated with detail that he could not seen in the dark when he had first laid eyes on it. He could make out the fluid figures of horses in motion, with what he guessed were elves riding on their backs. They were riding through a forest of beautiful, tall trees. He continued to examine the bag's detail, lost in it. Only elves were capable of such intricate figures and decoration. The bag was fastened close by tied leather and a large round symbol that had some type of writing on it that he could not decipher. The language of elves he assumed. He untied the bag carefully and opened it, peeking inside through curious eyes.

It was a large black stone, or at least it looked like a stone to Rauthr. He quickly brought the pouch into the light of an oil lamp and looked closer. The stone was black, no doubt. Yet, at closer examination he saw what looked like red-colored veins that weaved in every direction, like a million little ribbons across its surface. _"This can't be a rock," _he concluded as his light-colored brow furrowed with puzzlement. He reached his hands into the bag and pulled it out, marveling at its great weight. He held it up closer to the light and continued to survey it. The ribbons circled around the entire circumference, contrasting against the black. He repeated himself once more, this time out loud. __"This is not a rock." __His hands rubbed against the egg, feeling its smoothness. It had an unnatural warmth, something that wasn't just from the heat of the inn. A look of astonishment, disbelief, and fear emerged all at once on his face as he stared at the egg. His voice became a murmur. "They are going to come after me now. Even if I get rid of you, they'll track me down and kill me." It seemed the thief was going to get his justice from beyond the grave.

The boy buried his head within his hands as he sat on the foot of the bed. His fingers crushed into his wheat-colored hair, squeezing briefly before his blue eyes rose to stare at the egg once more. He had fashioned it a more comfortable "nest" than the pouch had been. It was nestled between a sheet and a feather pillow. It would remain safe there. At least until morning. If he caused harm to it he would be in even more trouble. He decided that he would return it to the elves somehow the next morning, or he would at least find a way to track them down. He hoped that they would believe his story, perhaps even reward him for killing one of the perpetrators. It was a long shot but it was a better idea than selling it. He remembered the elves that had healed him after the fire and his emotions became mixed. If Queen Islanzadí hadn't of launched an attack against the city his parents would still be alive, but at the same time if they hadn't they might still be under the rule of the Galbatorix. At least he would still have a home. He sighed and blew out the light of the oil lamp, drifting off into a more comfortable and care-free sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

I own none of Christopher Paolini's characters or his books. I merely admire The Inheritance Cycle and wish to write my own sequel to it. Personally, I believe the book ended with too many "loose ends" and left room for so much more. I hope you enjoy my fanfiction, Rise of Misfortune. This story is set after Paolini's last book, Inheritance. I love feeback and I would love to receive some. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Rauthr awoke to the sun's fingers caressing his face, the rays stretching far across the room and illuminating the wooden floor and white-washed walls with a warm glow. His blue eyes fluttered open and his mouth parted with a well-needed yawn. He wasn't sure how long he had slept but his body felt like melting butter, and he had to dig the sleeping sand from the corners of his eyes. At first he wasn't sure how he had gotten into the room. Was he still dreaming? He blinked, surveying the room in the light of the morning.

The room was small but cozy, better than any place he had stayed in years. Light-colored curtains framed a small frosty window and in the corner of the room was a large bucket, filled with water. He emerged from the bed reluctantly, stretched briefly, and then walked towards the bucket. He grabbed a soft wash cloth that was draped over the bucket and a white block of soap made from animal fat which was placed on the floor. He sniffed the block curiously and smiled with delight. It smelled faintly of mint and some other spice, it was a pleasant smell.

After he had washed his body, including the pink scars that were like raised ropes on his legs, he replaced his clothes. He frowned as he observed their tattered state. He left his gloves for last, which had fallen to the floor as he was putting on his cloak. The old leather was still coated with blood which was beginning to flake off. He grimaced at them before throwing them in the bucket of water that was no longer clear, but murky. After he had gotten rid of them he sat at the foot of the bed and ran his fingers through his light, damp hair.

His eyes strayed to the corner of the room where the black dragon egg continued to rest. It looked as if it was being choked by the sheet wrapped around it, and it contrasted greatly against the white pillow that it sat upon. "Were you comfy?" He cursed how foolish he had been to have left it out in the open like he had. He should have covered it better. Rauthr stood up from the bed and walked towards the egg, picking it up gently. He looked over it, surveying it for cracks or any other form of harm. He marveled over its stretching red veins before murmuring more softly, "I guess we better get you back home."

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><p>After placing the egg carefully back into the leather bag and making his bed, something that he had learned from the old lady that he once lived with, he left the room and made his way to inn's entrance. His eyes searched for the man that had given him the room but all he could see was an older woman standing behind the counter, her face hidden by a book. Her dusty eyes raised to his and she quickly bent the corner of her book before placing it down. "Leave the key on the counter," she said with a smile that caused the skin by her eyes to crinkle into deep crevices.<p>

Rauthr handed the key to her and smiled back, "Could you leave a message for me for the man that worked here last night?"

The old lady's eyebrow raised, "So you're the one who Alduin gave the free room." She raised a finger towards him warningly, "You better not have a made a mess. I'm too old to be cleaning those rooms for clients that aren't even paying!"

Rauthr shook his head, "Could you tell him 'thank you' for me, and that I promise to someday return the favor?" The woman nodded, yet her expression remained irritated as she dove back into her reading. The boy could hear her muttering something about her son being too kind as he opened the door and walked back into the chilled air.

It was cold, but the sun shone down and warmed his head with its rays. He breathed in deep, the air smelled of wet dirt and of rotting straw. The streets that were once empty as he searched for an inn during the sleet were now filled with people, horses, and figures whose faces were hidden by the shadows of buildings. Rauthr wasn't sure how he would find an elf, but he knew where he could begin his search. The problem was in who he could and couldn't trust.

He made his way towards one of Gil'ead's lesser known taverns. The trees around the stone building loomed over it like giants, casting shadows across the ground. Rauthr held the leather bag protectively to his chest, draping his cloak over it. He then knocked on the door of the tavern. The door was large and foreboding, the wood blackened as if it had been burned. The door creaked open and a pair of golden eyes examined him. The man's voice was hoarse and low, "State yer business."

"I'm looking for someone," Rauthr replied nervously. His fingers strayed to his dagger which he had cleaned in the bucket of water, it gleamed brightly after the blood was washed away. It was if the sin had been erased by the water.

"Yer too young to be in here boy, now go back home to yer mommy." The man chuckled darkly before his eyes disappeared and the door closed with a loud 'thud,' the smell of mead escaped into the air. Rauthr hit his fists against the door angrily until sweat ran down his brow, but the man failed to open it again.

His warm breath turned into puffs of smoke as he turned his head away from the door. As he turned his watery eyes came upon a tall shadow of a figure leaning against the side of the tavern. His hand went to the dagger at his side, readying himself.

"If I were an enemy I would have killed you long ago." The voice that came from the figure was light and musical, yet was also laced with something dangerous and truthful. The voice invoked a sense of familiarity in Rauthr. Before he could reply the figure took a step into the light.

The boy's blue eyes widened at the woman's fair face and features. Her eyebrows were high and slanted down sharply, and the soft looking hair that poked out of her hood was the color of exquisite silver. Her lips remained in a straight line and were pink, lightly colored like the rest of her features. Her eyes focused on him without blinking and were the color of fresh honey.

His mouth parted to speak, to question the woman, yet closed as his brow furrowed with puzzlement. "You've been following me?"

Her eyes finally blinked, an indication that she wasn't just a lifeless and beautiful statue. "Yes," she said simply as her voice chimed like a bell in the air.

Rauthr's mouth turned into a frown and his hand remained on the dagger. "Why?"

The woman waited a minute before speaking, as if mulling over her answer. "You have something that isn't yours. It is under my protection."

She knew about the dragon egg. Rauthr gazed at her nervously, his heart pounding like a captured butterfly. She had been at least following him since he had killed the thief and had stolen the egg. She must have watched him kill the man.

"Do not grieve for him. He would have died by my blade if you had not killed him first. I was watching him." She smiled, her voice turning quiet and dangerous. "Few can steal from us and live for very long."

One of her hands went to the hood of her cloak and removed it, revealing two largely pointed ears which poked through her metallic hair. A familiar presence prodded at his mind, reassuring him. It felt like the same presence he had felt before he had killed the thief, the presence that urged him to go on.

He became angry and confused, his fists turning into balls. "That was you!"

The elf remained calm as he displayed his aggression, her eyes watching him like a flightless bird that had fallen from its nest. He was as much as a threat to her as an ant in her path. "I wanted to test you." Her brow raised higher than he thought would be possible. "You were a little messier than I would have been, but you passed."


End file.
